“No,” Fredric said gently. “I think she tried to discourage me from coming tonight, even though she was polite about it.”
“That’s such bullshit. We don’t need to stay,” Ilan started, but Fredric reached for him and found his arm.
“The wine list on the website was good. Expensive,” he said, and Ilan barked a laugh. “I don’t want to be…what do the kids say these days? That basic bitch?”
“Oh my god,” Ilan breathed out and dropped his forehead to Fredric’s shoulder, laughing into the fabric. “Stop.”
“But I really just care about getting a little buzz from expensive wine and doing something ridiculous with you.”
“Fuck. Fredric, I…” but his words stalled, and Fredric’s breath caught because he was pretty sure two words with single syllables were meant to follow that I—but they didn’t. And he wasn’t about to ask for them yet. “Come on, there’s a table with all the wine on it and people are already filling their glasses.”
They made their way to the far end of the room, and Fredric heard quiet whispers around him—but that was nothing new. And more than ever, he didn’t care. The only person that mattered was the man holding him tight with one hand and holding wine bottles in the other so he could read off the labels.
“They have a Malbec,” Ilan said, and Fredric raised his brows.
“I didn’t bring my Tums with me.”
“Oh, fuck off, old man,” Ilan said, and Fredric heard the pop of the cork, then the sound of wine sloshing into a glass. “Take this. It’s a good year.”
Fredric knew—he’d memorized the list from their website, and he lifted the drink to his nose and breathed it in. But the quality didn’t matter either, he realized as they made their way back. He would have gladly taken cheap, five dollar drug-store shit if it meant having this. If it meant Ilan staying in close and laughing and calling him old man. If it meant whispering snarky comments about the pixie-voiced instructor who went on a ten-minute tangent about following their vision—but also making sure to follow the instructions exactly.
Nothing was better than Ilan’s hand closing over his and guiding him through the lines and then through the shading. He hadn’t known true pleasure until Ilan swiped paint off his cheek and followed it with a casual, easy kiss that meant the goddamn world.
The instructor only passed by them once, and they were laughing loud enough that Fredric had no doubt she was glaring. But the night had been something of a success, even if the weight of what might come next was heavy on his shoulders. Because he wasn’t ready to part ways.
Not this time.
Ilan put the paintings on the far wall to dry with the promise to pick them up the following week, then they washed at the sink not saying much, and Fredric relied heavier on his cane than he did on Ilan’s guide. They were some of the last to leave, so the parking lot was quiet save for the traffic in the distance, and he could feel Ilan lingering a few steps behind him as he reached for the door handle.
“Do you,” Ilan said, then stopped.
Fredric turned but this time, he didn’t reach for him. He needed to wait. “Stay over tonight?”
Ilan’s silence filled the space between them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” It was the easiest answer he’d ever given, and one of the only he knew he’d never try to take back.
The air between them was charged as Ilan pulled back up in front of Fredric’s house. The night air felt even colder against his heated skin as he stepped out of the car, and he braced himself against it as he heard Ilan shut his door. He barely breathed, didn’t dare move as footsteps walked toward him.
“It’s dark,” Ilan said, his voice a low rumble.
Fredric couldn’t help his smile. “I can guide you if you want.”
“Ha.” The laugh was more like a whisper, and then a hand touched him, pressing against his hip, then drawing up toward his ribs. “You’re the only one I’d trust to do it.”
Fredric wanted to lean in, but not yet. “I should go get Bas. Do you want to come with me or wait inside?”
“I’ll come,” he said, “if you don’t mind the company.”
Fredric took Ilan’s hand off his waist and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I never mind yours.”
Swearing under his breath, Ilan twisted his hand away, but only to take Fredric’s, and he hung back as Fredric made his way over the driveway, along the sidewalk, and then up the sharp turn toward Agatha’s door. His cane kept him from tripping over the step, and it found the edge of her doorstop where he came to a halt.
“Are there lights on?”
“A couple,” Ilan said. “It’s not late, it just feels like it.”
Winter always felt like it—long, lingering nights and sharpness on the ocean breeze. It made him want to curl up and let go of everything bothering him, even more now with Ilan standing close enough Fredric could feel his body heat.
His hand found the bell, and he waited with a little bit of anxiety at the base of his spine, because all he wanted was to get Bas inside so they could get on with what he knew was coming next. He took a single step back when he heard footsteps, and then he heard Teddy’s voice as the door opened.
“Hey, I…oh. Sorry, hi.”
Fredric managed a smile. “Hi, sorry we’re a bit late.”
“You’re not at all,” Teddy said as Fredric felt Bas rush forward to nudge his hand. “He heard your car pull up, and he’s been standing at the door waiting.”
Fredric felt a small surge of guilt, though he knew perfectly well Sebastian had been treated like a prince while he was away. All the same, he crouched down and nuzzled his face into his soft fur. “Such a good boy. Thanks for keeping an eye on him,” he added as he pushed himself back up to stand. He felt down and grabbed Bas’ leash, then wrapped it around his wrist. “I hope you don’t mind if we don’t hang out.”
“Oh,” Teddy said, his voice dripping with glee, “I definitely didn’t think you would. Give Agatha a call tomorrow when you have time.”
Fredric heard Ilan snort, and he reached back to smack his arm with the back of his hand. “I will. Thank you again.” He took Bas’ leash and handed it off to Ilan before putting his cane in front of him and starting ahead.
Ilan sputtered with another laugh and caught up quickly. “Don’t be pissy. That was cute.”
“He thinks we’re going to have sex,” Fredric said, and saying the words made it feel so real. Nerves struck suddenly, and his breathing felt a little tight, because he was entirely and completely out of his depth. He wanted to be good—he wanted to make Ilan feel good—but this first could be so, so bad.
“You look like you’re panicking,” Ilan said, and his hand gently brushed against Fredric’s lower back as they came to a stop at his door.
His fingers fumbled with the keys and the lock for a second, but eventually he got it open, and Ilan let Bas off the lead. The sound of the leather hitting the coatrack was a little bit final, and Fredric gave his lips a nervous lick.
“Will you talk to me?” Ilan asked.